


Reversed

by DepartedNullification



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Characters that are typically human are now monsters, Characters that are typically monsters are now human, Gen, Humans and monsters are switched, Humans are under ground, Humans hate monsters, Implied depressed Sans, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Monster Frisk (Undertale), Monsters are above ground, Papyrus is dead, Sans is somewhat aggressive, Sans punches walls, Self-Hatred, Starving, Suicidal Thoughts, Swearing, punching walls, reverse au, tags will be added as chapters are made
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-07 01:26:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15898104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DepartedNullification/pseuds/DepartedNullification
Summary: A monster is in their lonesome in a world where humans hate monsters.What will Sans, a human, risk to guarantee their safety?





	1. Chapter 1

Toriel’s prized garden was finally dying. Excluding a small patch of flourishing golden flowers. It would explain Toriel’s bleek attitude, as apparent by an unpleasant conversation a few minutes prior.

It wasn’t very surprising. They were the only flowers that had the privilege of reaching precious sunlight. They were the only flowers that deserved a decent place to thrive.

_“Over there! Don’t let them escape!”_

The familiar, yet distant voices of Dogamy and Dogaressa yelling in rapid succession brought Sans back into reality.

A substantially small, white blur leaps into the blue parrot tulips, and the wilting flowers properly conceal their unwarranted presence.

Sans observes as Dogamy approaches the clearing, with Dogaressa not far behind. They sniff the air like bloodhounds before turning their attention towards Sans. Dogaressa visibly cringes at the sourness in the air.

“You there!”

At the moment of acknowledgement, Sans warily smiles in their direction.

Dogamy approaches with extreme caution, and scowls with recognition.

“Did a monster come through here?”

“Sorry pal, but this is private property,” Sans hums, “So, you’d better _put the petal to the metal_ , and get out of here before I grab the owner.”

Dogaressa, in turn, observes the garden around her, “This is Toriel’s royal garden. What are _you_ doing here?”

“Ahh, Tori is an old friend of mine. Invited me over for lunch, actually,” Upon noticing the unbelieving stares from both Dogamy and Dogaressa, Sans awkwardly coughs into his hand, “What? Do you think I’m _pollen_ your leg?”

“We saw a monster come through here! We must search the area immediately before it gets away! Asgore’s orders.” Dogamy was fuming with rage, irritation lacing his words and clouding his judgement.

“You don’t have a warrant.”

Dogamy and Dogaressa share a look.

“We’ll get one, and..”

“Do you honestly believe that Asgore would provide a warrant to have his _ex’s_ current residence searched? Nah, I don’t think so,” Sans’ wary smile falls into a rough frown, suddenly eager to remove the two guards for disrupting his precious moment of peace and solitude, “You should _leaf while you still can_.”

Dogamy and Dogaressa create guttural growls in unison, and retreat from the garden with a new profound speed.

Sans takes a moment to allow the tension to release from his shoulders, and his posture slumps in turn. Anxious shuffling from within the blue parrot tulips catches Sans’ attention, and he makes a conscious decision to confront the white presence he saw prior.

Upon approaching the tulips, a little white head with vibrant brown hair emerges from the mess of wilting flowers.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Sans crouches to match the stranger’s height, and beckons them, “Whaddaya doin’ in there?”

Two frail arms reach out, and delicate, gray goat hooves that resemble human fingers poke out. They clench and unclench, similar to a toddler’s when they want to be lifted from their current position.

Sans grabs the monster by their underarms, and carefully removes them from the patch of flowers, before placing them down onto the smooth grass.

The goat monster claps happily in response.

“Where are your parents?”

It wasn’t safe for monsters, here, in the under ground. The humans here would likely take advantage of this one, given their reputation.

The humans, having attacked monsters unprovoked in the past, had been banished under ground as penance for their crimes. Ever since, a majority of the humans thriving under ground seek revenge on stray monsters.

Six defenseless monsters were once slaughtered in cold-blood for their souls.

A feeble attempt for humans to escape their sins.

This one was in danger of sharing their fate.

“Can you talk?”

The monster child mimics something resembling sign language.

During the confusion, Sans’ attention is drawn towards the monster’s ragged, dirty clothing. Bruises, and others small injuries make themselves known. Not to mention the matted fur.

“C’mon kid, let’s go get you fixed up.”

Sans outstretches his hand, and the monster accepts his offer of hand-holding.

“I think I’ll call you.. Frisk.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slow day, equally slow chapter. Sans' thoughts will be in bold, probs for the entirety of this piece.

The smell of butterscotch pie was mouthwatering, but not quite overwhelming.

Toriel was, surprisingly, not in the kitchen, but rather in the living room. She was currently skimming over one of her favorite books, one lacking a visible title, with the book’s color fading into a dull green. Toriel must’ve left the pie out to cool.

Upon hearing the two enter the room, Toriel glances upwards from her book, and instantly removes her reading glasses from her face, and places them on the table on her right, along with her book.

“Oh my! Sans, is that a child?” Toriel’s motherly nature kicks in at the sight of the battered monster child, and her heart melts.

“Yeah, Dogamy and Dogaressa,” Sans averts his eye contact away from Toriel during one of his rare bouts of frustration, “Those _monster-hating shits_ chased this one into your garden. Nobody was with them.”

“Oh! How awful!” Toriel was peering down towards Frisk, with a look of sadness on her face, “Come with me, my child, we will get you cleaned up.”

Sans delivers an encouraging nod towards Frisk, as Toriel leads them out of the room, most-likely for a bath, and a change of clothing.

Sans groans as he sinks into the armchair.

**They would have to sneak Frisk out the city, and..**

**Assist them in crossing the barrier?**

**Papyrus would know what to do. He should be here, dealing with this, not me.**

**What would Papyrus do--?**

**No. I’m here. What can I do?**

Sans brings his hand up to wipe away the sweat collecting on his brow, all while sinking further into his blue hoodie. 

**We’ll figure something out, kid.**

Thoughts of temporary despair cloud Sans’ mind up until the moment Toriel returns with Frisk.

Sans’ musters up the energy to smile politely for them.

Frisk’s torn clothing was replaced with an adorable striped sweater. They were beaming with an authentic, childlike happiness.

A happiness that was much unlike Sans’ artificial happiness.

“Hey kiddo, lookin’ stylish.” Sans sincerely comments.

Frisk was in noticeably better condition than before. Their white fur was now free of dirt, and other bits of debris. Self-adherent bandages were tightly wound over the more concerning injuries (one wrapped around Frisk’s bicep, and the other, directly below their knee cap. Both bandages were blue in color).

“The pie should be suitable to eat now. Can.. Can monsters eat human food? Well..” Toriel kindly smiles towards Frisk, “I’ll get you a slice.” Toriel then retreats to the kitchen to retrieve silverware, and prepare servings of pie accordingly.

“Sans, would you also like a slice?” Toriel calls from the kitchen.

“Sure,” Sans’ plastic grin perfectly imitates his genuine smiles, “I’d like a _pieticularly_ generous slice, Tori.”

Toriel’s distant, yet hearty laughter compliments Frisk’s dashing smile. Toriel returns to the dou with three plates of crisp butterscotch pie.

Frisk climbs onto one of the chairs adjacent to the dining table, as a steaming plate of pie is positioned in front of them.

Instead of encouraging Sans to join them at the table, Toriel hands one of the plates to Sans, before sitting across Frisk with her own serving of delicious, gooey pie.

**A monster has better manners than me. _Fuck._**

Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling very… peckish, as he uses his fork to move pieces of pie around his plate. Sparks of disapproval show on his features.

It was, however, very amusing to witness the look of utter joy on Frisk’s face. Their white fur did nothing to conceal the tints of pink appearing on their face.

Butterscotch pie has that impact on everyone, human and monster alike.

Much to his displeasure, good ol’ b’scotch pie did not bring Sans instant gratification.

While Frisk and Toriel were lost in conversation, Sans retreats to the kitchen to dispose of his untouched plate of butterscotch pie, his stomach growling in useless protest.

**Toriel and Frisk…**

**They were perfect for each other, weren’t they?**

Neither of them noticed Sans’ unforeseen departure.


	3. Chapter 3

Snowdin was a sight for sore eyes. It wasn’t for everyone, especially those with little tolerance for its signature bitterness. The people that resided here were almost as bad as the weather. Cold, racist beasts that Sans could not tolerate.

Papyrus saw threads of beauty within each individual, despite their ignorance, despite their hatred.

**How could they desecrate a man as forgiving as him?**

**Not as though he put up much of a fight anyways.**

Ever since his brother’s.. demise, Sans has occupied his two-story house alone.

His kitchen was left to rot. The famishing sensation in his gut did nothing to sway him. His appetite lessened with every waking moment, with an acute hope that eventually, he’ll starve. Sans’ ribs were not quite protruding from his torso, and Toriel’s never-ending kindness was responsible. It was as though she could feel his suffering.

Maybe Toriel pitied him. Pitied him for his weakness, pitied him for his insatiable urge to destroy himself.

The house’s condition was beyond terrible. Socks were scattered across the living room, and portions of the wall had suffered from Sans’ dynamic misery, as evident by the bits of drywall on the floor, and Sans’ calloused knuckles.

Papyrus’ room was abandoned long ago, and now covered in a fine layer of dust. Not human dust; regular dust.

Sans’ room was simply devoid of any small luxuries.

His mattress lay bare in the corner of his room, and a pile of junk cluttered around the edges. The window was covered with a sheet, one with mysterious maroon stains on it. Nothing more.

He wouldn’t dare put Papyrus’ scarf in his room. It felt as though it was mocking him, making him question his morality.

He’ll be damned if they fabricate reoccurring self-destructive thoughts.

**What am I living for?**

**The monster child, Frisk..**

**They would die without me, wouldn’t they?**

**What is this damn obsession I’ve obtained?**

**They will die regardless.**

A heaviness presses against Sans’ aching heart, and he collapses onto the couch in the living room. He rests his head on the armrest, all while sulking like a child. The warmth of his hoodie brought him comfort, although it did nothing to muffle a growing discomfort within his forearms.

Isolation was a familiar ache. One of Sans’ many guilty pleasures.

Papyrus deserves another candidate to carry on his legacy. A beacon of peace and friendship. A statically small chance at freedom, but a chance within reason nonetheless.

Unclipped fingernails bring themselves to embed into blue sleeves. The discomfort increases.

Toriel had an inkling of understanding towards Sans’ deteriorating condition. It was evident. It was almost impossible to miss. Her cries of pity did not fall upon deaf ears. The hurt that wallowed in Toriel’s eyes brought Sans some twisted form of pleasure.

Misery loves company.

Weariness brought Sans’ eyelids to close against his will.

As fate would have it, peace would not be given.

Mere moments later, a heavy tapping on Sans’ front door brings him back to reality, and the internal screaming is clawing within his head.


End file.
